


Of Montague and Capulet

by being_alive



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare, Romeo et Juliette - Presgurvic, Rómeó és Júlia (Színház)
Genre: F/M, POV Third Person, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-18 16:20:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18703138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/being_alive/pseuds/being_alive
Summary: The Capulets hate the Montagues and the Montagues hate the Capulets in return. This is how it has always been here in Verona, and that is how Marcella had thought it would always be.Until now, that is, she thinks, stopping and glaring down at the letter clutched in her hand because of the purpose that the letter is supposed to serve.---Or,Tybalt, Tybaltreworked and rewritten.





	Of Montague and Capulet

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [In the Gardens](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10817334) by [being_alive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/being_alive/pseuds/being_alive). 



> On May 4, 2017, I posted the first chapter of [Tybalt, Tybalt](https://archiveofourown.org/series/789513). Today is May 4, 2019, and I am posting the first chapter of this, a reworked, revamped, and rewritten version of that very series, featuring an original character in place of the 'you' character.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this just as much as you did the original series!

The Capulets hate the Montagues and the Montagues hate the Capulets in return. This is how it has always been here in Verona, and that is how Marcella had thought it would always be. 

_Until now, that is_ , she thinks, stopping and glaring down at the letter clutched in her hand because of the purpose that the letter is supposed to serve. Romeo, her poor, sweet, lovelorn cousin had asked her to deliver a letter to his lady love, one Rosaline Capulet, who he swore would surely return his affections if only she read this letter. So Marcella had agreed to take it to her, both to help him and to get him to stop crying in her bedroom.

Only too late has she realized that she doesn't actually know how to find this Rosaline. So here she is, wandering around as the sky begins to darken, letter in hand, hoping not to get caught, and absolutely, completely, utterly lost in the Capulet gardens in her attempt to find a side entrance to the main building.

 _Romeo can deliver the damn letter himself_ , she finally decides as she looks around at the trees surrounding her, and then starts walking back in the direction that she's vaguely sure the gate was in.

Luckily for her, this is proving to seemingly be the correct direction because things are starting to look vaguely familiar. Just when the gate comes back into view, someone from behind her calls out, "Montague."

With a sigh, Marcella tucks the letter in the back of her belt before turning to look at whoever has caught her, only to find that she's been caught by the worst possible options of all the Capulets.

"Tybalt," she says, crossing her arms as her eyes meet his. He walks closer and closer to her, scowling all the while, and it suddenly dawns on her that not only has she never been alone with him before, but also that she's never seen him up close before, until now.

He walks even closer to her as he asks, "What're you doing here, on Capulet grounds, not just at this time of day but as a Montague?"

"That's none of your business," she replies, quickly, looking away from him and then back. There's a certain intensity in his dark eyes, an intensity that makes her nervous. He stops a mere hand's distance from her and she's forced to tilt her head back to continue looking him in the eye. Somehow she'd never realized just how tall he is, especially in comparison to her, and that realization only heightens her nervousness. Tybalt stares down at her, his dark gaze boring into hers as he replies, "I think it is my business, as you are a Montague and I am a Capulet and you are in my home."

"Perhaps so," she concedes, taking a half a step back.

He takes half a step forward and continues, "I'll ask you once more, Montague. What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to see you," she says, quickly, too quickly, blurting out the first thought that had come to mind.

"Really now?" Tybalt asks, raising his eyebrows.

"Oh, yes. Word of the...prowess of Tybalt of the Capulets has reached even the ears of the Montagues, so I had hoped to see for myself if it was true," Marcella replies, smiling up at him in a way that she hopes is seductive and flirty and not at all as awkward as it feels like it is. Perhaps she's been spending too much time around Mercutio, because this seems like something he would come up with, but as it stands there's no taking back what she'd said now. 

So Marcella uncrosses her arms and closes the distance between them, reaching up to grab the front of his shirt to pull him down to closer to her height. Then she stands on the tips of her toes to compensate for the remain distance and presses her lips to his. His mouth opens in surprise and she takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss. He's the last person she had ever previously considered kissing, but now she finds that she doesn't really mind the feeling of his lips against hers all too much, even if he is a Capulet.

Tybalt's arms come around her and when they separate she finds that he's holding Romeo's letter in his hand. Marcella briefly wonders just how he knew about the letter before realizing he probably saw it before she had tucked it in her belt. She reaches for it and tries to grab it from him, but he simply holds it up above her reaching range while wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

"And I suppose this is a declaration of your love for me, then?" Tybalt asks, amused. She simply glares up at him in response. He unfolds the letter and begins to look over it, all the while still holding it out of her reach.

"To my most darling red-winged swan," Tybalt reads from the top of the letter with a grimace.

"Is that really what he wrote?" Marcella asks after a moment, scarcely able to believe what she's hearing. She's known for a while know what a romantic Romeo is, and that he often attempts to write poetry, but she had never imagined he would write something like that.

"It is," Tybalt replies, his lips quirking upwards in the hint of a smile, and then asks, "But who is the he that wrote this?"

"A cousin," she replies, simply, because she'll be damned if she betrays Romeo to the Capulet most known for his dislike of Montagues.

"Which cousin?" Tybalt asks, and she can't but to laugh at the suggestion that she would willingly divulge that information. Raising her eyebrows at him, she replies, "Do you really think I'd tell you, Tybalt of the Capulets, that?"

"Fair enough," Tybalt spits back in response. They spend several moments staring at one another, or it would be staring if not for the fire in his dark eyes as he looks at him. Just as the silence is beginning to grow unbearable, Tybalt suddenly says, "Because of how...gracious I feel tonight, you're free to go."

Marcella already knows what he's going to reply, but she asks anyway, "Can I at least get the letter back?"

"No. Now go," Tybalt says, dismissively, with a wave of his hand. She clenches her jaw as she stares at him for some moments more before nodding and saying, shortly, "Have a nice night, Tybalt."

"The same to you. Now, begone, Montague," he replies, and she turns, unable to believe that this isn't some sort of trick, and continues her former walk to the gate. When she reaches it, she glances behind her, halfway sure that Tybalt has followed her, only to find him exactly where she left him. He nods to her, and she turns back around and finally leaves. As she makes her way back home, she can't help but to find herself reflecting upon her encounter with Tybalt and wondering why he let her, a Montague, go so easily, even if he did keep Romeo's letter.

For all the fights she's seen him in, not once has he ever raised his hand against anyone but other men, so that's probably why he didn't try to fight her. 

_Unless he just didn't want to bother with someone so much shorter than him_ , she thinks, snorting to herself. Or perhaps it was the kiss that made him let her go so easily, though probably more from the shock of being kissed by a Montague than anything to do with the quality of the kiss.

Shockingly enough, realizes that she doesn't think she'd mind kissing him again.

He actually is quite handsome, she reluctantly admits to herself, picturing the dark waves of his hair and the straight black brows above his equally black eyes, the fine jut of his cheekbones and the line of his nose, the point of his chin and the curve and softness of his lips, the smoothness of his tan skin and the admittedly flattering cut of his damnably Capulet-red clothing.

 _Handsome for a Capulet_ , she mentally adds. Although, to be fair, he doesn't look much like a typical Capulet. The vast majority of the Capulets she's seen have been fair of skin and hair, and Tybalt is neither, though she supposes that he is fair is his own way, or at least she considers him to be such even though she shouldn't. 

Though she does suppose that if Romeo can fall madly enough in love with a Capulet to write bad poetry for her, then there's nothing wrong with her merely finding a Capulet attractive other than just who the Capulet in question is. With a sigh, Marcella comes to the front gate of her home, and the sight brings her out of her thoughts of Tybalt.

Luckily for her, Romeo is nowhere to be seen. She'll tell him of the fate of his letter tomorrow, she decides, and walks in through the gate, in the front door, and up the stairs to her bedroom.


End file.
